


The Fortnight Before

by LadySolitaire83



Series: I Love You: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018 Fics [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySolitaire83/pseuds/LadySolitaire83
Summary: Sherlock asks Molly to bring an ambulance to a certain address in two weeks' time.Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018, Day 5: The Six Thatchers /The Lying Detective





	The Fortnight Before

**Author's Note:**

> **Theme: ~~The Six Thatchers /~~ The Lying Detective (Canon Compliant)**
> 
> **Rating: T, for implied/referenced drug use.**
> 
> I really wanted to write about how Sherlock asked Molly to bring the ambulance. And I decided to combine this idea with another plot bunny/headcanon of mine.
> 
> Can y'all guess who the undisclosed character is?
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this one!
> 
> I don't own these characters. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome; I only ask that you'd be mindful of your words.

Lying sideways on his armchair, Sherlock glanced at Wiggins. “How the hell is he going to monitor my intake when he’s passed out in the kitchen?” he muttered to himself. He felt around for something solid from the floor, grabbed what turned out to be a biro, and threw it at him, hitting him in the shoulder.

But Wiggins barely stirred; he, in fact, just continued snoring loudly.

Softly groaning, Sherlock turned to stare at the ceiling and ran through the plan again in his mind. When he got to Molly’s part, he felt a twinge in his chest. _She’d be extremely disappointed if she found out about the drugs_ , he thought, crossing his arms defensively even if she was not around. _Who am I kidding? She wouldn’t just be disappointed; she’d be downright furious!_

He shut his eyes and took several deep breaths. _But what do I tell her if she asks why I need the ambulance? If I lie, she’d know. But if I tell her the truth, she’d be angry with me. I can’t just tell her that I’m doing this because Mary wanted me to save John, can I?_ He groaned and dragged his trembling hands down his face. _Which reminds me…_

Slowly and unsteadily sitting up, he grabbed his phone from the small table next to his chair. He quickly typed out a text.

> _Molly, I need you to bring a fully equipped ambulance to this address at exactly 12.42pm in exactly two weeks. [Google Maps attachment] –_ SH

Molly usually replied within a minute, unless she was in the middle of a postmortem. So when there was no reply after 20 minutes, he dialled her number. With his heart pounding in concern, he stood and began pacing along the sitting room. Waiting for her to pick up the phone, he was thankful that he had taken just enough drugs to dampen the pain and his guilt for causing Mary’s death but not enough to make him dangerously and obviously high. 

When she finally picked up, he knitted his brows together at the music and the laughter in the background. “Molly, did you get my text?” he asked in a slightly annoyed tone.

“Um, no,” she replied sheepishly. “Well, I haven’t seen it. Sorry, I have a friend over and we’re busy experimenting with Moroccan food. We’ve been having a bit too much fun whilst cooking, so I most likely didn’t notice the text alert. Is it urgent?”

The furrows on his forehead deepened. “No, not really,” he answered irritably. “But I do need to confirm that you’ll be able to do it.”

He could feel her eye-roll from the other line. “All right, hang on. I’ll put you on speaker and I’ll check my text messages, OK?”

He rolled his eyes this time and ran his trembling fingers through his unwashed hair. “Fine.”

“What do you need a fully equipped ambulance for? What the hell are you planning to do that would necessitate a sodding ambulance, Sherlock? And why does it have to be two weeks from now?” The background noises and the new voice— _Welshwoman, mid- to late-30s, likely Caucasian, new to London, some kind of a freelancer, keen cook and baker_ —faded, so Molly must have moved to the hall, deactivated the speaker, or both.

“It’s not important.” He cleared his throat. “Well, obviously, it _is_ important. Otherwise, I wouldn’t ask you for a favour, would I? But—”

“But you always ask me for favours, whether they’re important or not,” she pointed out.

He heaved a frustrated sigh. “The point is… I need to know if you could get a fully equipped ambulance to the address I sent you at that exact time in exactly two weeks. Can you do it or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Valerie said she owes me a big one for setting her up with Eira. So, yeah, it’s doable.”

“Eira? Is that your Welsh friend? The one in your flat right now?”

“Well, yeah. Um, it’s the accent, isn’t it?”

“Obviously,” he replied. “You’ve never mentioned her before. Is she a new friend?”

He furrowed his brows as a horrible thought came to him: What if Eira was part of Moriarty’s organization that he, the entire British intelligence, and, later, Mary missed? What if she somehow found out about Molly’s involvement in his fake suicide and is out to exact revenge for ruining her plans or her life or what-have-you? What if she’s using Molly to get to him or hurt him again?

“Uh, no, not exactly. I met her a few years ago at a cake place near Barts. I guess she just hasn’t come up in conversation.”

“How come I’ve never seen her?”

“I don’t know. Oh, maybe because she went back to Swansea for a couple of years?”

He hummed in thought. “I see.” But he still made a mental note to get Mycroft to create a file on and perhaps monitor Molly’s Welsh friend. _I can’t let Moriarty hurt Molly to get to me again._

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t think she’s part of whoever did Moriarty’s broadcast, are you?”

“To be honest, I have no idea. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.” _Especially when it comes to you._

He could imagine her blushing and breaking into a grin. “I don’t think Eira’s dangerous or-or affiliated with Moriarty. But thanks for worrying about me, Sherlock. I appreciate it a lot.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “No problem.” His heart thumped in his chest as he sat back down and ran his hands along the armrest. “You’re my friend. Of course I care about your safety. Moriarty knew people who could broadcast his face onto all screens in the country. Who knows what else they’re capable of?” He balled his hands into tight fists as he added, _If Molly is harmed in any way, I will hunt down the people that hurt her and I will destroy them with my bare hands_ , in his mind.

“Anything else you need from me whilst you’ve got me on the phone? By the way, we also baked chocolate coffee peanut butter muffins earlier. They’re amazing and they’re supposed be healthy! Would you like me to bring you some?”

His mouth watered at the mention of muffins. _But I can’t let Molly see me like this._ “Uhhhhhh… Perhaps not right now. Wouldn’t want Mycroft to suddenly show up, you know?”

“Sure, no problem,” she replied with a small giggle. “I know you prefer cake and fairy cakes over muffins anyway.”

“No, I do not!” he protested before he and Molly simultaneously burst into a giggling fit.

“Um, how are you doing after Mary’s death?” she asked once they had sobered. “I-I know it’s hard for everyone, but she was closest to you and John. I can’t imagine you’re coping well after she died.”

_No, not at all._ “Oh, I’m fine. I’m just throwing myself into my work. I have plenty of cases to distract me from the grief. In fact, I’ve never felt better…” he trailed off, worried that she would figure out that he was not being truthful to her.

She sighed in relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I know you cared about her a lot. I-I guess I’ve just been worried that you’d relapse again because her death must have been extremely traumatic for you.”

“It _was_ extremely traumatic. But I’m fine. Really!” He hoped he was convincing enough.

“Before we hang up, do you still need me to text back? At least so there’s a record on your phone?”

Despite the sadness creeping back into his mind and his concerns about Molly’s safety, he smiled, the genuine one he usually had around or because of Molly Hooper. “Uh, yeah, yeah, if you don’t mind.”

He received her reply within 10 seconds of ending the call.

> _Yeah, sure. Let me know if you need anything else! –_ xxMolly

Still holding his phone, he lay back sideways again. He just hoped that she would be less angry and more understanding once she found out why he needed the ambulance.

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I rewatched TLD in the past year, I'd wonder about Sherlock's deduction that 'Faith' was a 'keen cook'. I also wondered if Eurus tried to get close to Molly prior to TFP. So I combined this idea with my Sherlock-texting-Molly-about-the-ambulance idea.
> 
> The coordinates on [this screencap](http://kissthemgoodbye.net/sherlock/displayimage.php?album=17&pid=53049#top_display_media) indicates the therapist's house is in Hertford, UK.
> 
> * * *
> 
> So what do y'all think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?


End file.
